Martin was taking him far too seriously for too much joking, Tarin realized when the other man pointed out that anyone who wanted what it was that he could do was nuts. Tarin nodded his head in understanding, “People always seem incredibly interested in what I can do too.” He said, dropping his forearms on the table to lean on them. “I can tell you for sure, though. Inside the head of a murder victim after the fact is not a place that anyone wants to go.”

Tarin nodded in affirmation of Martin’s suggestion that he was a medium, “Of some sort.” He said, “I’m not sure that’s the right name for me though. I can see them, and make them more real…sometimes they’ll do things for me if I ask nicely.” He reached forward and flicked the crystal ball in the middle of the table, “This is all for show though.” He tapped his head, “It’s all really in here.”

Tarin was still slightly unnerved by the fact that he’d given Martin the alcohol. Truth be told, though, Tarin didn’t think that in his current state of mind, the guy was capable of lying. He was still so shaken up by what had happened in the alleyway. Tarin looked at the other man when he started speaking again, explaining a little bit of what he did. In fact, it almost seemed like he was sorry for the other guy. Tarin leaned back in his chair and shook his head slowly, “I have to hand it to you Martin, you’re a better man than I am, I can’t imagine feeling anything resembling regret for running off a mugger. “

Apparently skin-on-skin contact transferred some of his powers. Tarin filed that away almost subconsciously for future reference. It was strange, the assumption that he’d see this guy again. Tarin’s eyebrows furrowed at the ‘not for you’ comment Martin made in response to Tarin’s question about his powers. That was a strange answer, and Tarin was about to ask more about it when Martin asked another question, one that Tarin had to chuckle at.

“Yes, she definitely knows.” He said, a slightly rueful smile crossing his features, “My powers extend a little beyond what I do here in the shop. It can be…problematic. Lee’s own unique abilities are ironically helpful in those situations.”

Tarin let the words trail off, he didn’t want to get into an intense discussion of his powers at the moment. There hadn’t been reason to dwell on that side of them since he’d woken up from the coma, anyway. It was too much to hope that the merging powers were completely gone, but somehow Tairn had a feeling there was more control there from somewhere.

It had grown quiet in the shop, and Tarin rooted around for something to talk about as conventional small talk ran out. “So Martin, what do you do?” he settled on, leaning back in the chair once more and crossing his arms across his chest.

His fingers tapped on the table at Tarin's confirmation of his idea. It had not been a perfect comparison, there never would would be one. Sometimes it just happeed to be the case that language could not quite keep up with their abilities. And not only language was a challenge.

He was not the only one who had trouble with what his powers did. He had never thought he was, but he had rarely met people who had that kind of common grounds with him. He somehow felt a connection to Tarin at his words and simply offered a look of sympathy. A look that knew. A look of brotherhood in a way. Brotherhood and relation. Not by blood. By acts, by gifts, skills. They somehow seemed to be alike. He took another sip of alcohol. It had really worked, control was rapidly returning and the episode with the thief was already showing the gray spots of an old memory in his mind. That was until Tarin brought him up again. This time he pushed the feelings away with all mental strength that he could muster and focused on the words themselves. They were an anchor that pulled him forward until it was his turn again to raise his voice.

“You are mistaken. He was a thief and deserved to be punished.” Was there a faint sound of wind or was it just the cold again? “But that right was neither mine, nor did he deserve to” Pause. Do you really want to say it? Can you say it? The last word was a whisper. “die by my hands.” But somehow aside from their volume they lacked any emotional coloring. They were a blank page like him, lacked any disapproving or agreeing tones. They were just words. Just words. His hands had taken tight hold of the glass, only to release it gradually over the next few sentences. His wife not only knew, but was a mutant herself? She was helping him to keep in check another part of his powers? That sounded like a difficult relationship. But a mutant wife also sounded appealing in many ways. And he was obviously in love with her. Strange things. So many expectations on either side they must be. Mutants they were and so it was just the normal madness. How did he deal with it? It would be interesting to see. But he was steering away into smalltalk. Regrettable but understandable.

“First I was a mariner of some sorts....” His blank expression made it quite clear, that he did not want to talk about that episode of his life. “and now I'm an unemployed gardener in New York.”
There was no regret in his voice. There were no regrets. He would manage here. He would.

Lee was just hanging up the phone, her worry only slightly abated, as she looked again at the time. Tarin had assured her that there was nothing wrong, that he wasn't in trouble, repeatedly, while they had been on the phone, but Lee just couldn't get the worry to disappear completely.

He had said that he'd been taking the trash out back and had seen someone getting mugged. The mugger had run off, and no one was hurt, but that the kid was really shaken up.

And so Tarin was staying at the shop longer to let the kid calm down.

Stopping, only realizing then that she had started pacing, Lee glanced at the clock. The only way she'd know for sure that Tarin was alright would be to see him.

That was about the extent of her thought process as Lee went to grab her shoes and purse again, heading out of the apartment. At least it was a shorter walk to the shop now than it had been from their old place.

Not fast enough for Lee's liking, she reached the shop and pushed the still unlocked door open, causing the bell over it to tinkle slightly. With a quick, careful glance around, Lee saw that the front room was both tidy and empty, though after a moment she heard a voice coming from the back room.

Stepping through the doorway, Lee saw two men sitting at the table, one her husband, the other looking younger than her, with a bottle of Scotch sitting between them. "So this was the emergency?" Lee asked, crossing her arms in front of her. "You needed a drink?"

Tarin frowned as Martin stumbled over his words, finally managing to get out that the thug had somehow died by his hands. He leaned forward on his forearms again and fixed Martin with a slightly harder stare than before, “What do you mean die?” he said, confusion evident in his words as he stared at the other man. “I watched that thug run off like he had the hounds of hell nipping at his heels. You didn’t kill anyone.”

Martin had fallen silent for some time and Tarin had eventually relaxed, leaning back in his seat. The guy was obviously still rattled from everything that had transpired. His powers seemed to take a toll on him. It was something that Tarin could understand, having dealt with similar situations in the past. Once Martin’s mind was completely clear, he’d realize that he hadn’t really hurt the thug at all.

Martin spoke again, answering Tarin’s question in the best fashion he could expect. It seemed like the real share time was over. Martin was an unemployed…gardener? Tarin tilted his head, trying to think of places in the city where a gardener could actually get work. New York was a concrete jungle at a concrete jungle’s most prolific, but there were places outside the city.

“Have you thought about checking out the mansion?” Tarin said, “They’re usually pretty willing to help out mutants who need a hand. I’ve also heard that they’ve got a huge grounds…surely they keep a whole staff of gardeners on staff. I can probably give you their number or an add…”

Tarin’s words were interrupted by the last voice he’d really expected to hear. Turning in his seat, Tarin looked up to see Lee standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest in what could only be an annoyed manner.

“Hi Lee.” Tarin said, heaving a sigh. With as out of control as Martin’s powers seemed, he really didn’t want her here. Now that she was in the room, though, he knew it would be impossible to get her to leave.

“It wasn’t actually me who needed the drink. I’d like you to meet Martin. Martin, this is the wife I was telling you about, Lee.”

Tarin's probing looks seemed unable to scratch at the kids composure. What was more, he was met with what could only be described as a reflection of his very own stare. It might just have been for other reasons though. Of course Tarin did not understand. It was so difficult to communicate. So difficult to speak at all, and then the words had left him. He should not have had these problems. He knew he could deal with them, yet on this very evening his finely crafted images were flung throughout the room like old pictures. Sighing a little he reworded his former assessment. “His body might have survived an encounter with eternity, but his mind did not.” There were no regrets any more. It was like reading a scientific paper. Full of logic on the surface. Full of emotions underneath. Eternity. It usually had a ring of hope to it, some hint of the unbelievable. Now it was just flung at Tarin with some underlying tension. It was all that was left of the emotions from earlier on. Blink. Refractions of foreign eyes seemed to stare at him from the crystal ball on the table. He looked away, looked at his own hands, when he heard the faint tingle of a bell coming from the entrance.

It was quickly glossed over by the question, suggestion really, that Tarin made. Why was it that people always referred to the Mansion? It must be a very popular institution. An institution of renown with the proper facilities to go with them. What Tarin did not know, was that he had already learned about the Mansion by one of its inhabitants and was quite sure that they would take him in gladly. The real question was whether he would allow himself to go there. “Thank you very much.”
Was his simple answer. Another opinion never hurt. And another piece with the number on it wouldn't either.

Then there was a new voice in the room, and he took note of the fact, that Tarin turned a little paler at its disapproving note, even if he caught himself rather quickly. It was a female voice. He rose to his feet and swayed only slightly, as the blood rushed to his feet again. So this was his wife. Interesting. His glance seemed rather fleeting in reality, but he took his time studying her features. If she could make her husband turn pale and sigh, then she either was a very ordinary wife, which was quite unlikely, or quite extraordinary. If he had to place a bet it would be of the second opinion.

“Frau Brooks.” His voice sounded light, but slightly worried, the German coming over his lips naturally and accent free as a linguistical counterpart to the somewhat American sounding surname. Friendly conversation tone it would be in some circles. In a mediums store it was rather formal. “ It is a pleasure to meet you.” While he talked he went over to her and offered her a hand. “I am sorry to have delayed your husband, whom as he assured me, you are helping a lot.” He remained standing even after the introductions had been completed and would remain so until she sat down. "But back on the topic of the Mansion: I am not sure, whether it would be the rigt place for me." It seemed the alcohol had taken some effect after all, for sobre he never would have said the last sentence out loud.

Tarin didn't look too happy to see her when he turned after hearing her voice. So what, she was supposed to have just stayed at home because he had said everything was fine?

Apparently it was the other man, Martin Tarin introduced him as, who needed the drink. So of course Tarin had to bust out the Scotch, just like he seemed to have to do every time someone came into the shop like this.

By this time, Martin was not only on his feet, but was also stepping toward her with his hand outstretched. And, though she didn't recognize the title he used to address her, the man's tone was very polite.

A hand, Lee noticed just before she touched him, which was gloved despite the time of year. She stopped, her hand hanging in the air as she glanced at the man, slight concern on her face.

And then he mentioned the mansion, and Lee's eyes shot to Tarin as she pulled her hand back. "Again?" She asked. Then she turned her eyes back to Martin, who was still standing in front of her. "Touch-based powers?" She asked simply. At least that was her guess based on the fact that he was wearing gloves in May. "Probably best that we don't touch, then."

That said, Lee stepped away, walking over to the small counter that separated the main part of the room from the small kitchenette and leaned against it with a deep breath. "Ok," Lee then said after a moment, glancing up at the two men. "What did I miss?"

Martin introduced himself with all the polite flair that could be mustered in a situation like this one. Tarin was somewhat impressed, but couldn’t really muster full blown awe with his wife standing in the shop and glowering at him for doing the right thing. Martin was an astute guy and his observations were pretty much right on target when he spoke to her. Tarin hadn’t risen when Martin had, so this resulted in Tarin looking up at him and over at Lee as she leaned on the counter. Martin pointed out that he didn’t know if the mansion was the place for him and Tarin just shrugged, the mansion wasn’t necessarily the place for anyone. Tarin knew that.

Again? Tarin raised an eyebrow at Lee as he turned in his seat to look at his wife, “Yes, again. I think we need to talk to the landlord and the next building over about getting a gate to put on that alleyway. Because I swear Lee, if one more person gets mugged, killed, or brainwashed out there I’m going to have some sort of conniption.”

Lee hadn’t shaken Martin’s hand, even though he had gloves on. Tarin thought that was probably a good idea considering the effect that Lee’s powers had on people sometimes. Martin’s powers were already intimidating in their own way, and the last thing they needed was Lee getting a taste of them and thinking the situation was worse than she already did.

Lee asked what she’d missed and Tarin stepped in before Martin had a chance to present the situation in the wrong way. “I was taking the trash out and I stumbled on Martin getting mugged. He had things pretty well in control as far as everything was concerned, but I shoved the guy off. Martin was shaken up and definitely looked like he needed to chill for a few.”

Tarin sipped at his drink again and took a deep breath, “It turns out that Martin’s powers have a unique effect on time. He hasn’t aged in a number of years. I didn’t check his ID before I gave him the Scotch though. Other than that, I don’t think you missed anything.”

((Im very sorry its so short. My muse has seemingly taken a vacation))
“They are.” Touch based. Requiring physical contact. Close. Face to face. Eye in eye. AN eye for an eye. Sometimes. “Sometimes.” He let the enigmatic half sentences float into the room, as he turned away from Lee to drift through the room a little or so much as the currents would allow. He had studied them already, but he felt the need to at least admire some of their belongings as to not seem impolite. He kept his eyes off the crystal ball though, as he saw shadows floating in it out of the corner of his eye. Shadows that looked like faces. Maybe the medium had been wrong about it all being a power of his own?

With two of them standing and one sitting the situation was slowly turning awkward like milk turning sour, yet his glass was still quite full and he would drink what he had been given as the scotch was an adequate concoction of different aromas playing chase in his mouth.

He mimicked Tarin as he took another sip of the drink. Quite adequate.

“Oh if you need some help with that I will lend you a hand.” He gladly would. It was time someone started closing off all those dreadful alleyways to prevent things like this from happening to people that were defenseless. Defenseless like the mugger you killed? A little voice in his head asked. Suddenly the alcohol turned to ashes in his mouth as he struggled to swallow it down. Just shut it! He barely payed attention to the two any more, seemingly just musing over some occult signs on a painting. “A good summary. And you have a very nice business.” Did he really mean that? Well it was his first mediums shop, so it was no real lie. But he rarely lied outright anyways.

Tarin said that they were going to have to talk to the landlord and the next building about getting a gate for the alley, and Lee was confused for a second. She had been complaining about the fact that Tarin had outed them as mutants again, though as the moments ticked on, she realized that the fact that something had happened in the alleyway once more meant that something should really be done about it.

And then Martin confirmed that his powers were touch based. Sometimes. That didn't really make sense to Lee, but if they were even touch based sometimes, so much so that he felt the need to wear gloves this late in the year, Lee didn't feel much desire to risk that.

But then, as Martin started walking around the back room, looking at the few things they had placed out there, Tarin started explaining about what had happened. And the fact that he was taking Martin at his word, so hadn't bothered to check his ID before giving him the liquor.

Again, Lee was confused for a moment as she looked over at Martin. Of course, she couldn't be completely sure, but he had to be old enough to drink. And then Lee remembered Tarin's problem with that: here, the legal drinking age was 21, not 19 like she was used to.

It was growing quieter in the shop now. Tarin seemed to have run out of explanation, and Martin seemed almost more concerned with what he was seeing around the room than with them. Though the young man did offer, seemingly off hand, to help Tarin with that gate.

"And you have a very nice business.”

Lee blinked over at Martin. That comment had seemingly come out of nowhere since he had been quiet, but after a moment, Lee recovered. "It's really not much," Lee said with a slight shrug. Then, without another word, Lee straightened up and walked around the counter, into the small kitchenette to grab a can of coke from the fridge. She needed a drink too, and she was not going to be drinking that Scotch.